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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25573552">C’est à ton tour de te laisser parler d’amour</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/sylviarachel/pseuds/sylviarachel'>sylviarachel</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Check Please! (Webcomic)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Chow-Farmer children, Franglais, Gen, M/M, Minor Chris "Chowder" Chow/Caitlin Farmer, Other Falcs, Other Wellies, a party</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 02:49:16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>10,083</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25573552</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/sylviarachel/pseuds/sylviarachel</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt: “Jack’s mini-me rookie”</p><p>Sure, Gabriel’s about to meet a two-time Stanley Cup winner who’s also the NHL’s very first out queer player, whose posters he had all over his bedroom walls as a teenager. And also his husband the best-selling cookbook author and YouTube celebrity, who was the first out queer captain of an NCAA men’s hockey team and led his team to a championship. But no need to be intimidated, right?</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Eric "Bitty" Bittle/Jack Zimmermann</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>132</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>368</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Jack Zimmermann Turns 30!</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>C’est à ton tour de te laisser parler d’amour</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Our narrator is Gabriel “Winnie” Nguyen-Gaudreault, a 20-year-old goalie who has been recruited by the Falcs from the hockey program at the Université du Québec à Trois-Rivières (UQTR), where he has completed 2 years of the <a href="https://oraprdnt.uqtr.uquebec.ca/pls/apex/f?p=106:10::::10:P10_CD_PGM,P10_RECH_CRITERE,P10_RECH_VALEUR,P10_RECH_DESC:7138,P2_CYCLE_PGM,1,%5CPremier%20cycle%5C">BEd (physical education &amp; health) program</a> because why not, he’ll eventually have to retire from hockey and needs something else to fall back on. </p><p>Gabriel’s family background is somewhat based on an immigrant story that’s very familiar to me via childhood friends (I am roughly his parents’ age): his mom came to Canada as a child in <a href="https://www.cbc.ca/2017/canadathestoryofus/when-canadians-came-together-to-help-vietnamese-refugees-1.4110755">the great Vietnamese refugee wave of 1978-1981</a>, and his dad’s (white Québécois) family was part of a sponsorship group that sponsored her family. Gabriel has an older brother, Olivier, who went through the junior hockey system, was drafted, and has been bounced around from team to team the way a lot of non-white players are IRL for reasons that I’m sure have nothing whatsoever to do with men’s pro hockey being a cesspit of racism 😒😒. He also has a younger sister, Juliette, who’s going through a goth phase and kind of generally defining herself in opposition to The Whole Hockey Thing.</p><p>Hyphenated surnames are super common in Quebec, in part because while women married to men still frequently use their husbands’ surnames in daily life, legally your surname at birth stays your surname irrespective of your marital status. </p><p>Because of the nature of the prompt, this fic takes place in an AU where the COVID-19 pandemic is not a thing. I will leave it to your imagination whether this AU also features a 45th president of the United States who is maybe a pants-suit-wearing former lawyer from Illinois. I have also handwaved the timing of stuff like rookies arriving in their new city, training camp, preseason, and inter-conference games because frankly once you've eliminated COVID-19 from the 2020/21 hockey season you might as well just make everything up, right?</p><p>Notes on language: If something is in italics, it’s for emphasis or to indicate unspoken thought. Dialogue in « guillemets » is in French, but rendered in English; dialogue in English, French rendered in French, or franglais is in “quote marks,” and you’ll find translations of the French and franglais at the end.</p><p>Not beta'd, but thanks to <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/Winterhearth/profile">Winterhearth</a> for cheerleading and talking stuff through!</p><p>I’m not totally happy with how this turned out, but I hope y’all enjoy it!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <hr/><p> </p><p>
  <b>💙Jack💛</b>
</p><p>Hey, Bits</p><p>So, George wants me to billet a rookie</p><p>Excuse YOU, Mr Zimmermann 😒😒</p><p>George wants WHO to billet a rookie???</p><p>Uh</p><p>*Us</p><p>She wants *us* to billet a rookie</p><p>What do you think, bud?</p><p>I mean</p><p>It makes me feel ancient 😅</p><p>What does that make me?</p><p>😶😶😶</p><p>Anyway! I think we could handle it 😌</p><p>I hope this young man likes pie!</p><p> </p><p>*  </p><p> </p><p>Gabriel gets out of the Lyft at the address Georgia Martin texted to him, and stands on the sidewalk for a minute with his gear bag and suitcases around him, looking up at the house. He’s not sure what he expected? But it just looks like … a house. </p><p>A normal house.</p><p><em> They’re just people </em> , he tells himself. <em> Don’t be intimidated </em>.</p><p>Like, sure, he’s about to meet a two-time Stanley Cup winner who’s also the NHL’s very first out queer player, whose posters he had all over his bedroom walls as a teenager. And also his husband the best-selling cookbook author and YouTube celebrity, who was the first out queer captain of an NCAA men’s hockey team <em> and </em> led his team to a championship. But no need to be intimidated, right?</p><p>Gabriel takes a deep breath, hefts his bags, and starts up the front walk.</p><p>As he gets closer, he hears a dog barking. That’s cool, dogs are cool. Dogs like Gabriel, almost always. Dogs are way less complicated than people.</p><p>“Cachou, assieds-toé!” a voice says, loudly. “Tais-toé, Cachou, my goodness. Such a loud girl.”</p><p>The voice may speak some French, but French is definitely not its mother tongue. The barking stops, but Gabriel’s standing right in front of the screen door now, so he can hear that the dog is still pretty excited.</p><p>There’s a knocker, but Gabriel figures the person on the other side of the door already knows he’s here, and knocking would be redundant. </p><p>“Euh … hello?” he says instead.</p><p>The door opens.</p><p>On the other side of it are a short blond man and a tall blond dog. </p><p>“Hello! Hi!” says the man. He smiles at Gabriel. “I’m Bitty! Come on in. I’m sorry about Cachou! She has no chill. I hope you like dogs. How was your trip? Are you hungry? You said you didn’t have a favourite pie, so I made—”</p><p>He’s … nervous, Gabriel realizes, incredulous. The YouTube-famous guy who <em> kissed Jack Zimmermann on TV </em> is nervous.</p><p>“Pretty hungry,” he admits. He smiles back at … Bitty? … Right, hockey nickname, and Bitty’s smile gets even bigger.</p><p>“Cachou, reste ici,” he says firmly. The dog’s tail wags frantically, but she stays put.</p><p>Bitty and Gabriel carry all the stuff into the front entry and dump it on the floor. </p><p>“Food first!” Bitty declares. “I’ll show you your room and everything later, and you can arrange all your stuff how you like it.”  </p><p>Cachou follows them to the kitchen, sniffing at Gabriel. He decides it’s okay to follow his instincts, and flops down on the kitchen floor to scritch her head.</p><p>“She speaks French,” Bitty says, then chuckles behind his hand. “I mean. Jack got her from a rescue in Québec, and she’d had the same name for five years and she only knew commands in French, so we just kind of went with it? Like, in case you were wondering why she’s named after a nut and why I’m subjecting your poor ears to my terrible French.”</p><p>Gabriel isn’t sure if it’s okay to laugh at that. Bitty’s accent is kind of awful, but like … he doesn’t want to make a bad first impression by being rude.</p><p>“I don’t mind,” he says instead.</p><p>Bitty snorts, but it’s friendly. “Okay, peach pie?” he says. “Tarte à sucre? Blueberry pie? Butter tarts? All of the above?”</p><p>“Wô, <em> all of the above </em>, that’s an option?”</p><p>Cachou licks his face, and then he does laugh. “Okay, okay,” he says. “C’t’assez maintenant, hein?”</p><p>He looks up, and finds that Bitty is grinning. </p><p>“She’s adopted you,” Bitty says. “I’m sorry, I don’t make the rules.”</p><p>But Gabriel can already tell that he absolutely does.</p><p> </p><p>*</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Bits ❤️</b>
</p><p>So this is our rookie?</p><p>
  <a href="https://jackzimmermannturns30.tumblr.com/post/625003157845606400/pimento-mortis-sketches-for-the-jack-zimmermann">[photo attachment: UQTR hockey team photo of Gabriel Nguyen-Gaudreault, starting goalie]</a>
</p><p>How do you even say that last name? I don’t want to mess it up :/</p><p>Nguyen? It’s like … nwin, I think</p><p>🙄</p><p>I know how to say “Nguyen,” Jack</p><p>The OTHER last name</p><p>Haha</p><p>Gaudreault like … Go-dro I guess</p><p>What 😱</p><p>You’re telling me it takes FIVE LETTERS to make one “o” sound</p><p>What even is this language, Jack</p><p>I didn’t think anything could top “oiseau” but here we are</p><p>Haha</p><p>Because English spelling is definitely more logical</p><p> </p><p>Well according to YOU, half of English is stolen from French </p><p>It’ll be good practice for you, eh?</p><p>Encore un autre francophone chez nous</p><p>Omg</p><p>I just realized</p><p>I have literally just signed up to be outnumbered THREE TO ONE</p><p>🤦🤦🤦</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>*  </p><p> </p><p>Jack Zimmermann is both a lot less baffling than his husband and a lot more intimidating—at least, for the first ten minutes. He’s … he’s <em> Jack Zimmermann </em> , okay, and he’s 185 centimetres and 100 kilos of professional hockey player, and he has <em> two </em> Stanley Cup rings and his <em> father </em> won the cup for the <em> Habs </em> before Gabriel was even <em> born </em>, and—</p><p>And he’s shy and awkward, it turns out, and he lets his middle-aged Golden Retriever herd him around the house and wash his face, and the running shoes he took off at the front door are bright yellow and astonishingly ugly, and he could use a haircut, and he really likes pie.</p><p>Jack sits Gabriel down at the kitchen table after dinner, with Bitty—Eric—on his left, to talk about House Rules. </p><p>At first it’s more or less the usual: Clean up after himself. No borrowing anyone’s car without permission. He can have people over as long as they’re not destructive and don’t keep Jack up late.</p><p>Jack gets to <em> if you’re going to smoke weed— </em> </p><p>And Gabriel interrupts, “I don’t know what Mme Martin told you about me—”</p><p>“George didn’t tell us anything,” Jack says, which <em> cannot </em> be true, estie. “So … what did you think she might tell us?”</p><p>“Euh,” says Gabriel. He can feel his ears and neck heating up. Crisse de câlice, how do people <em> do </em> this? He’s only now realizing that as much as he hated the idea of Georgia Martin airing his dirty laundry behind his back, he was also kind of glad he wouldn’t have to <em> say </em>all of it.</p><p>He summons all of his media training, from UQTR on back, and settles into his hockey bro monotone (but in English) to say, “I take medication for anxiety. I didn’t really want to go to university so much, it’s because my older brother had such a bad time with the hazing that I dropped out of the draft for the Q, not because I wanted more school.” </p><p>He’s staring down at the table, because if he has to look at anybody’s face while he’s doing this, he—</p><p>Well, he’s not going to risk it.</p><p>“I didn’t think I could do it, the Q,” he says, “because of the like, Vietnamese thing, Olivier got so much shit, and because—” his voice breaks, and he swallows hard, but if <em>anyone</em> outside his family is safe to tell... “Because, euh. I’m gay.”</p><p>There’s a silence that might be a second or two long, or might be a couple of years, Gabriel honestly can’t tell.</p><p>“Gabriel, honey.” Bitty can’t say his name quite right, but Gabriel can tell he’s been practising. “Can I give you a hug?”</p><p>Gabriel looks up at him, startled. “I, euh,” he says, and then, “<em> Yes, please. </em>”</p><p>Bitty hops down from his seat next to Jack, comes around to Gabriel’s side of the table, and hugs him. It’s like a weird and amazing combination of a hockey hug and a hug from his maman, and Gabriel is horribly embarrassed and also kind of never wants it to end.</p><p>He doesn’t realize he’s crying until Jack hands him a box of kleenex, and then he realizes that Bitty is crying too, and even <em> Jack Fucking Zimmermann </em> looks a little bit teary.</p><p>They get back to the House Rules, eventually. And Gabriel’s not sure what he was worried about, exactly? But by the end of the conversation, he’s pretty sure he’s gonna like it here.</p><p> </p><p>*</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>JLZ 30th epic birthday bash planning committee 💣</b>
</p><p>[Shitty Knight-Duan changed the name of the group to “JLZ 30th epic birthday bash planning committee<b> 💣</b>”]</p><p>[you changed the name of the group to “Jack’s 30th birthday”]</p><p>[Shitty Knight-Duan changed the name of the group to “JLZ 30th epic birthday bash planning committee<b> 💣</b>”]</p><p>fine, BYRON</p><p>You win</p><p><b>SKD</b> FUCK YEAH BABY</p><p><b>LDK</b> Babe. Chill tf out pls</p><p><b>LDK</b> Bits, I got the stuff you asked for</p><p>THANK YOU Lardo</p><p>I am in your debt</p><p><b>JO</b> Holtzy and I can’t help set up after all :(</p><p><b>JO</b> I tried to get the day off but it was no go</p><p>It’s fine! Just do your best :)</p><p>We’ll be happy to see you whenever you get here!!</p><p><b>LDK</b> Yeah we’re not gonna be early either, Bits</p><p><b>SKD</b> Don’t think we’re not coming though!!!</p><p>Don’t worry, I have Jack and his rookie to fall back on 😉</p><p>FYI, y’all: you will be meeting Jack’s rookie</p><p>So I am expecting everyone’s best and most welcoming behavior</p><p><b>SKD</b> Sweet!</p><p>I *trust* I do not need to say again that there will be NO tub juice at this gathering 😒</p><p><b>SKD</b> 🙈🙉🙊</p><p> </p><p>* </p><p> </p><p>Gabriel is starting to feel … settled. Like, not totally, he’s still in a brand-new city in a whole new country and in the process of meeting a brand-new set of teammates. He’s about to be playing <em> in the NHL </em>. (At least, he hopes he is.) But chez Jack and Bitty is like … it’s comfortable. It doesn’t feel like he’s a guest, it feels like he lives here. Or, like, it feels like a place he’ll be living?</p><p>It’s not <em> home </em>. But it’s not like he thought living with complete strangers would be. </p><p>He goes for early-morning runs with Jack (“off-season conditioning is important, faut qu’on aille tôt le matin car y fait crissement chaud plus tard”), he plays ball hockey in the driveway after dinner (Jack gets past him more often than Bitty does, but it’s not nearly as lopsided as Gabriel expected), he plays with Cachou in the backyard, and he helps Bitty in the kitchen (“cooking is a life skill!”), and he ends up talking about himself way more than he would ever have expected because Bitty and Jack are just … <em> comfortable </em>.</p><p>He tells Bitty about Olivier and Juliette, how Olivier’s been bounced from team to team even though his stats are good, and how happy he is to be going to San Jose—even though he hasn’t even met any Sharks yet, except across the ice—just because he won’t be the only Asian guy. (Bitty looks intently at him for a second, mutters something about soup, and puts down the knife he’s holding to make a note on his phone.) </p><p>He tells Bitty how Juliette very loudly doesn’t like hockey (except, Gabriel <em> knows </em> she secretly watches her brothers’ games on her phone) and has started painting her fingernails black and wearing black lipstick and Doc Marten boots to fuck with Maman. How when Maman complains about it, Papa grins and reminds her of her punk-rock phase in the 90s, and how her name, Thao, means something like <em> respectful towards her parents </em> and Maman was anything but. (Bitty chuckles and asks what kinds of cookies Maman, Papa and Juliette like, and the next thing Gabriel knows, they’re sending cookies to Sherbrooke by FedEx.) </p><p>He tells Jack how his parents love him and are super supportive, and Maman has told him over and over that there’s more to life than hockey, and Papa keeps just casually mentioning that if Gabriel has a special someone they’d love to meet him, and he knows they would be completely fine with him quitting hockey and coming out to the world, but he doesn’t <em> want </em> to quit hockey, he <em> loves </em> hockey, and he isn’t at all sure he wants to come all the way out, right now he just wants to stop pucks and live his life. (“It’s hard,” Jack says. “Mais enfin y faut faire c’qui te rend heureux, hein?”)</p><p>He meets some Falconers.</p><p>There’s Alexei Mashkov (“You’re call me Tater! Like tiny potatoes!”), who’s huge and loud and seems to have some kind of quasi-sibling relationship with Bitty and Jack, who comes to the house and goes home with an <em> entire case </em> of blueberry jam, and whose wife is expecting a baby in a few weeks and he can’t stop talking about it. He throws an arm around Gabriel’s shoulders and booms, “Little goalie! Snowy getting old, you’re keep him on his toes!”</p><p>There’s Dustin Snow (“’sup, I’m Snowy”), the starting goalie who won both of those Stanley Cups, who’s so confident and intimidating that Gabriel can’t believe he ever thought <em> Jack </em> was intimidating. Snowy looks up Gabriel and down, then grabs an apple out of the fruit bowl on the kitchen island and hurls it at him. When Gabriel, startled, catches it glove-side (so to speak), Snowy nods approvingly and says, “Cool.”</p><p>There’s Jamie Fitzgerald, who won’t tell Gabriel his nickname—after he leaves, Jack tells him what it is, and then explains it (and the whole origin story) in French, and then whacks Gabriel on the back when he accidentally snorts Gatorade out his nose—and is one of the team’s veterans but “still acts like a teenage frat boy,” as Bitty says with a shake of his head.</p><p>Most of the team is out of town, visiting their parents and families or taking their own families on vacations, but Gabriel’s getting the impression Jack and Bitty’s house is kind of a hub for team shit. He’s not sure how he feels about that? But at least he has his own room to retreat to, which makes this better than his double room at UQTR first year or the chaotic rented house he shared with half a dozen colocs last year.</p><p>He knows Jack’s turning 30 this year, because you can’t grow up anywhere in Québec and be at all interested in hockey without knowing a bunch of Zimmermann Facts, including how old Jack is. He knows Jack’s birthday is in August. He vaguely remembers Bitty saying that he was planning a party, and mentions of “Jack’s party” get more frequent as July winds down.</p><p>But it’s not the Thursday before the party, when two guys in a truck deliver a bunch of folding tables and dozens of chairs to the backyard, that Gabriel starts to fully realize what <em> kind </em>of party this is going to be.</p><p>“Bitty,” he says, tentative, “for the party, how many people will you have?”</p><p>Bitty does a little thoughtful <em> hmmm </em>. “Just some friends,” he says. “And some guys from the team. Including the kids, about … sixty?”</p><p>Gabriel drops the tea-towel in his left hand, and only just misses also dropping the serving bowl in his right.</p><p>“You okay, hon?” Bitty asks, eyebrows furrowed.</p><p>“Euh,” says Gabriel. He squats down to retrieve the tea-towel, and then isn’t sure what to do with it, because it was on the floor. </p><p>Bitty takes it gently out of his hand.</p><p>“That’s a big party,” Gabriel says. “I didn’t … it’s a lot of people.”</p><p><em> People I don’t know </em> , he doesn’t say. <em> Total strangers. Famous people. People I should be trying to impress. </em></p><p>This is objectively stupid: he’s about to try to make the roster of an NHL team. He’s spent the past two years playing in front of, not NHL-sized, but definitely sizeable crowds. He’s literally pursuing a career in the public eye, he’ll have to talk to the media and meet fans and all that, it’s part of the job. </p><p>He can’t be <em> afraid of people </em>.</p><p>“Winnie,” Bitty says, because Gabriel was stupid enough, a few days ago, to let his UQTR nickname slip. His voice sounds far away.</p><p>Gabriel is … wait, he’s sitting on the floor? Fuck d’câlice d’tabarnak, how did that happen?</p><p>“Can I touch you?” Bitty asks.</p><p>Gabriel manages to nod, although he can’t manage to actually <em> look </em> at Bitty because— </p><p>Bitty’s hand squeezes his shoulder, and Gabriel buries his face in his knees.</p><p>“Honey, you don’t have to come to the party if you don’t want to,” Bitty says. </p><p>“It’s stupid,” Gabriel mumbles. “It’s so dumb. I’m so dumb. I—”</p><p>“Gabriel Hoang Nguyen-Gaudreault. You are <em> not </em> dumb.” Bitty’s never sounded so <em> stern </em> before, and it startles Gabriel into looking up. “It’s <em> okay </em> . I mean it. You’re <em> fine </em> just the way you are.”</p><p>Gabriel sniffles.</p><p>Bitty hands him a kleenex from … somewhere. Then he settles down next to Gabriel, so they’re both sitting on the kitchen floor with their backs against the island, and he tells Gabriel a story about himself and Jack and a house party at their university team’s … frat house? And at the end of it, when Bitty says again that Gabriel doesn’t have to come to the party if he doesn’t want to, Gabriel mostly believes him.</p><p>“Winnie, please don’t take this the wrong way,” Bitty says, “are you still talking to your therapist from back home? Because if you need to find one here, me and Jack can help, or the Falcs’ sports psychologist can give you a list—I don’t want to stick my nose in, honey, but—”</p><p>“It’s okay.” Gabriel cuts him off—gently—before he can really get going. “You’re right, I should get in touch with Dr Blais and set up some like … online appointments, I guess? before camp starts. I just …” He shakes his head. “It’s dumb.”</p><p>“<em> Winnie </em>.”</p><p>“I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” But they’re both laughing, and it feels … okay. Gabriel feels okay.</p><p> </p><p>* </p><p> </p><p>In the end, and after talking it through with Dr Blais, he decides to give the party a try. If he hangs around for the beginning of it, and can like … meet people a few at a time, it might be okay. And if it’s <em> not </em> okay, he can disappear upstairs and nobody will notice. Well, probably. </p><p>… hopefully.</p><p>Also, it turns out <em> Chris Chow </em> is coming to this party, and there’s <em> absolutely no way </em> Gabriel is going to pass up a chance to hang out with Chris Chow.</p><p> </p><p>*</p><p> </p><p>🦈 <b>Chowder </b>🦈</p><p>Chowder! I have a favor to ask</p><p>Sure thing Bitty!!!</p><p>What’s up??</p><p>You know the new winger y’all got from the Isles?</p><p>Nguyen-Gaudreault? Yeah!</p><p>His little brother just signed with the Falcs</p><p>Hopefully gonna be their backup goalie</p><p>No way!! Swawesome!!</p><p>Me and Jack are billeting him this year </p><p>He’ll be at Jack’s party</p><p>He’s um</p><p>a little shy? But stoked to meet you 😁</p><p>If you n Cait could hang out with him a bit 🙏</p><p>Of course Bitty!!!</p><p>Goalies gotta stick together!!</p><p>I hope he likes toddlers 😬</p><p>… I don’t think it’s the kids he’s worried about</p><p> </p><p>*</p><p> </p><p>« So? What’s it <em> like </em>? » Juliette asks. She’s FaceTiming with her phone propped up in front of her bedroom mirror, so Gabriel can see the photos on the wall behind her—the whole family at their parents’ twentieth anniversary dinner, on Olivier’s NHL draft day, on Gabriel’s 18th birthday; him and Olivier and Juliette at the Chutes Montmorency the summer they spent road-tripping around the province when Juliette was 12—and the giant Marilyn Manson poster. </p><p>« It’s fine. » Gabriel shrugs, then reconsiders: « It’s … pretty good, actually. They’re nice. »</p><p>He pans his phone around so she can see his room, which he’s starting to get set up the way he likes it: Panic! At the Disco and Patrick Roy and Coeur de Pirate and Felix Potvin posters, the shadowbox frame Maman made for his shutout pucks from UQTR, a new duvet cover set and some baby plants from his IKEA trip with Bitty — and of course the same family photos Juliette has in her room, plus the one of five-year-old Gabriel in his first set of goalie pads defending the driveway net from eight-year-old Oli.</p><p>His bedroom door, which he didn’t bother to close all the way, creaks open, and Cachou noses her way in. Gabriel pats the bedspread next to him, and she jumps up, settles herself, and starts to lick his ear in a businesslike way.</p><p>« Hi, Cachou! » Juliette coos. « Good girl, Cachou! »</p><p>« Are you serious right now? » Gabriel snorts, fending her off. « C’mon, Cachou, I’ll give you scritches if you quit it. »</p><p>He doesn’t think Cachou actually understands this, but she does shake herself, sigh, and flop over dramatically to have her belly rubbed.</p><p>Juliet lowers her voice to a stage whisper. « Is Jack Zimmermann just as hot in person? » she asks.</p><p>« Juliette! » Gabriel is <em> scandalized </em> . « He’s <em> fifteen years </em> older than you, and also <em> married </em> , that’s <em> so inappropriate. </em> » </p><p>« A girl can dream. » She shrugs. « I’m just saying, like, hockey players are mostly gross, but some of them aren’t bad. You’ve got Zimmermann now, and Olivier’s got Chow. I might watch a game occasionally. »</p><p>« Oh, so you won’t watch your own brothers play, but you’ll watch random hot married guys, » Gabriel retorts. He tries to sound annoyed, but it’s hard because he can tell Juliette is 100% trolling him. « I see how it is! »</p><p>Juliette laughs at him.</p><p>« And speaking of Christopher Chow, » Gabriel says, letting his voice get a tiny bit smug, « guess who’s gonna meet him at a party tomorrow? »</p><p>« No way. » Turns out, it’s still a lot of fun to surprise his little sister. </p><p>« For real! Him and his wife went to university with Jack and Bitty, and they’re coming out from California for Jack’s birthday. »</p><p>Juliette tilts her head back and groans dramatically at her bedroom ceiling. « How come I never get to meet the hot famous guys? » She demands of the world in general. « Wait, you’re going to a party? On purpose? »</p><p>« I go to parties! » Gabriel protests, and Juliette gives him her very best Skeptical Eyebrows.</p><p>« But you’re okay, though? » she asks, after a minute, her face serious again. « For real? »</p><p>« I’m good, Juju, » he says. « For real. » And at that moment, it feels true.</p><p>« I miss you guys so much, » says Juliette. « Don’t tell Oli. »</p><p>« Awwww, » says Gabriel, chirping, and then, serious again, « I miss you too. »</p><p> </p><p>*</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>JLZ 30th epic birthday bash planning committee 💣</b>
</p><p><b>SKD </b>ITS ALMOST ParTY TIMMMMEEEEEE</p><p><b>LDK</b> Any last-minute requests from Boston, Bits?</p><p>Nope! I think it’s all under control, actually</p><p>Oh dear</p><p>Now I feel like I must be forgetting something</p><p><b>JO</b> It’s gonna be great, Bitty! </p><p><b>AB </b>EPIKEGSTER REMIXXXXX</p><p>PLEASE NO</p><p> </p><p>*</p><p> </p><p>It’s Saturday morning, post-run and post-breakfast, and Gabriel is upstairs, psyching himself up to spend most of the day being at a party.</p><p><em> You can do this </em> , he tells his reflection in the bathroom mirror. He doesn’t say <em> it’s just a party </em> , because yes, it <em> is </em> just a party, but he knows that’s not a helpful thought.</p><p>He promised Bitty that he’d help set up, so he squares his shoulders and clatters down the stairs—maximum noise, he’s learned, means minimum odds of interrupting a kitchen makeout session.</p><p>Bitty appears at the bottom of the stairs with a massive armful of … tablecloths, Gabriel concludes. He looks stressed, but grins at Gabriel. </p><p>“Juste le gars I was looking for!” he says. (Jack has been encouraging Bitty to practise his French; it’s … an experience.) “Jack’s got the tables all set up outside, tu peux-tu mettre ces, uh, tablecloths sur les tables, hon?”</p><p>“Ouais, j’mettrai les nappes, pas de problème.” Gabriel grins at Bitty’s exasperated eyeroll, takes the armful of linens—Falcs blue and Samwell crimson, it looks like—and heads out into the backyard, where Jack is now setting up chairs in what looks to Gabriel like a totally random pattern.</p><p>“Tsé, you really don’t have to do that,” Jack says, looking up.</p><p>“Ché ça, I don’t mind,” says Gabriel. “C’est cool. Should I like, alternate the colours?”</p><p>Jack claims not to have any opinion about that, and for a while they work side by side without speaking. Bitty trundles back and forth with candle holders, stacks of rented plates and cutlery, sleeves of red Solo cups (“for old time’s sake”) and those fancy paper serviettes; Jack finishes with the chairs and starts hanging up strings of fairy lights along the fence and in the lower branches of the trees. </p><p>“Okay, les gars,” Bitty says, finally. “It’s kitchen time!”</p><p>Gabriel didn’t entirely understand or believe, until basically today, that Bitty and Jack were actually planning to host, like, five dozen people <em> in their house </em> and feed those people <em> by cooking the food themselves </em> , but it’s true that new pies and cookies and squares have been appearing in bigger batches than usual over the past week, and it turns out that Bitty was at Costco and then the Providence Farmer’s Market starting at eight this morning—Gabriel has never seen Bitty <em> awake </em> at eight o’clock, so like, excuse him for not expecting that. </p><p>Bitty sends him down to the basement with a list of stuff to bring up, which is when Gabriel discovers that there’s a whole other fridge <em> and </em> a chest freezer in the basement, and that extra fridge is currently completely full of fish, meat, entire cheeses, fresh vegetables, and watermelons, like some kind of epic refrigerator Jenga.</p><p>“OK,” he mutters, glancing from the list to the fridge and back. “Asparagus. Bell peppers. Zucchini. Red onions …”</p><p> </p><p>*</p><p> </p><p>🦈 <b>Chowder </b>🦈</p><p>Hey Bitty</p><p>Would it be ok if we showed up a bit early?</p><p>I thought we’d have to stop more times on the way …</p><p>Of course, Chowder!!</p><p>Fair warning, we might put y’all to work in the kitchen 😉</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>*</p><p> </p><p>The doorbell chimes, and Bitty, who’s mixing up the biggest batch of potato salad Gabriel has ever seen, glances quickly from Jack (cutting up vegetables) to Gabriel (putting the vegetables on skewers) and says, “Winnie, can you get that, please?”</p><p>Gabriel would rather not, but like, it’s good to challenge yourself, so he puts down his skewer and heads for the front door.</p><p>When he opens it, he almost loses his shit, because <em> Christopher Actual Chow </em> is standing on Jack and Bitty’s front porch.</p><p>Well, Christopher Chow and a tall white woman with long brown hair who must be his wife. </p><p>“Hi!” Chow says, with an enormous grin. “Oh, wow, are you Bitty’s rookie?! It’s so great to meet you!!”</p><p>And like, Gabriel has seen this guy’s media interviews, but this level of cheerful enthusiasm <em> right in his face </em> is … it’s a lot.</p><p>“Euh, uh, hi,” says. “I’m Gabriel.” He doesn’t point out that he’s <em> Jack </em>’s rookie, not Bitty’s, because, well ...</p><p>“I’m Chris!” Chow sticks out a hand for Gabriel to shake. “This is Cait! And this is Lily and Alex! Guys, can you say hi to Gabriel? He’s Uncle Jack and Uncle Bitty’s friend!”</p><p>Gabriel’s brain has been so busy processing <em> Chris Chow right in front of him </em>that it’s only now he realizes that Chow has a toddler clinging to each leg. One has tiny black pigtails and a tiny Sharks jersey, and the other one is wearing a tiny Falcs jersey and the smallest Nikes Gabriel has ever seen. They both look up at him doubtfully, and after a minute Sharks Jersey—Lily—gives him a little wave.</p><p>Gabriel smiles and waves back, one hand for each kid; Lily giggles, and Alex gives him a tiny smile.</p><p>Finally he realizes, crisse, he’s an idiot, he needs to <em> let them in the house </em>, so he steps back and does his best “come on in” gesture. </p><p>“Bitty and Jack are in the kitchen,” he explains, but before he can show them where it is, he hears Bitty call, “Chowder, Cait, is that you?”</p><p>And there’s Bitty, and there’s a <em> lot </em> of hugging and squealing and cooing and excited bouncing, and the next thing Gabriel knows, Bitty’s got a toddler on each hip and Chris “call me Chowder!” Chow is helping him skewer vegetable hunks and asking him questions about his old team, and Olivier, and what he thinks of the Falcs so far.</p><p>“I’ll give you my number,” Chowder says, “so you can text me whenever. Don’t let me forget! Goalies gotta stick together.” He leans closer across the kitchen island, lowers his voice. “And Asian guys in the NHL <em> really </em>gotta stick together.”</p><p>Gabriel’s face must do something without his permission, because Chowder says, “I know. I’m gonna have your brother’s back, okay? For real. And like, Jack doesn’t like, <em> get </em> it? But he kinda does, because the racist sh— uhh— stuff and the homophobic stuff kinda go together?”</p><p>Gabriel nods like only one of those things affects him directly.</p><p>“But anyway, I promise if anyone does anything or says anything, Jack’s gonna shut it down, like, <em> ASAP </em>.”</p><p>He carefully sets another skewer in the pan of marinade.</p><p>“Not that I think anyone on the Falcs <em> would </em>. But like. You know.”</p><p>“Yeah,” Gabriel agrees, and changes the subject: “Olivier’s super stoked to play with you! Would, um … would it be okay if I gave him your number too?”</p><p>“Oh-em-gee, of course!” Chowder says. “For sure!”</p><p>They finish the skewers and wash their hands and exchange phone numbers, and Bitty thanks them for helping and shoos them out into the backyard, where it turns out Jack and Cait have been setting up a plastic kiddie pool and … a sandbox? Where have those been hiding for the past two weeks?</p><p>Jack is standing by the kiddie pool, holding the garden hose. Cait is sitting cross-legged on the grass under the big maple tree. Lily, wearing a hilariously big sunhat in an eye-searing shade of pink, is digging in the sandbox with a plastic shovel, muttering to herself, while Alex is curled in Cait’s lap, watching his sister and sucking on his fingers. </p><p>Honestly, Gabriel can relate.</p><p>“Happy birthday, Jack!!” Chowder says, and gives Jack another hug. “I forgot to say it before! How does it feel to be thirty? I mean, I know it’s not till Monday! I hope you’re having a good day so far, though!”</p><p>Jack chuckles; <em> he </em> apparently doesn’t find Chowder overwhelming, which, well, they’ve known each other for a long time, so that makes sense.</p><p>“Thanks, Chowder,” he says. “Yeah, it’s been a good day. How has your trip been so far?”</p><p>Gabriel goes and sits by Cait, and makes funny faces at Alex until Alex starts to giggle.</p><p>As parties go, this one’s not bad so far.</p><p> </p><p>*</p><p> </p><p>As the afternoon goes on, the party gets … more.</p><p>Friends and colleagues of Bitty’s show up, including a couple called Shireen and Gina, who bring an enormous cake box that Gabriel has to help Shireen sneak downstairs to the basement fridge. Gina turns out to be an immigration lawyer who does work on retainer for the Falcs when they bring in non-American players, and Shireen is a pastry chef (which is how she and Bitty met) whose client list also includes the Falcs PR team.</p><p>A variety of Falcs players—and former players—show up with their families. The sandbox and the kiddie pool fill up with kids; after sitting in the pool for a while, Cachou gets tired of the heat and the kids, does a massive shake that sprays all the kids with dog-water, and trots over to lie down under the table where Tater, Vanessa, Snowy, and Maddie are sitting. Bitty asks Gabriel to hand out freezies to the kids (he calls them “otter pops” but they are definitely freezies), which Gabriel appreciates because everybody likes freezies and the only conversation he has to have is refereeing who gets which colour and reminding them to stay still while he cuts off the tops of the plastic tubes. He acquires an assistant in the form of Jerome Robinson’s daughter, who is ten years old and tells him very seriously that hockey is cool and all, but she’s going to be a figure skater because they get to go <em> really </em> fast, plus also jump and spin. He ends up giving piggy-back rides to at least half the kids—which is exactly what always happens at family parties at home, too—and has to go change his t-shirt after an incident with a red freezie. </p><p>He bumps into Georgia Martin—literally, unfortunately—on his way through the kitchen; she looks him up and down, grins at him, and says, “So I take it staying with Jack and Bitty is going okay?”</p><p>“I,” says Gabriel. “Yeah. Yeah, it is.”</p><p>Bitty and Jack’s non-Chowder teammates from university start showing up towards dinner time, and they’re loud and in-your-face friendly on a level that even the Falcs haven’t reached.</p><p>The greetings are noisy, enthusiastic, and full of words you’re not allowed to use on Anglophone TV. A big black dude and an even bigger white dude, arriving together, literally pick Bitty up and spin him around, and they try the same thing on Jack and almost succeed; a redheaded white guy and a hipster-looking black guy enter the backyard bickering about which guy made them arrive late, and keep bickering until they spot Chowder and redirect all their bickering energy into manic hugging.</p><p>Gabriel checks them off the mental list he compiled from Bitty’s informal pre-party briefings: Ransom and Holster, Dex and Nursey. They’re all annoyingly good-looking and annoyingly unclear as to whether or not they’re like … <em> together </em>. Not that Gabriel’s going to start hitting on older men at Jack Zimmermann’s birthday party, because he’s not actually that much of a disaster.</p><p>Finally a not-as-tall-as-the-rest white guy with a melodramatic moustache and a man-bun arrives with … </p><p>With literally the first other Vietnamese person Gabriel has seen since he left Canada, fuck. </p><p>He knows this because while Man-Bun Guy is tackling Jack and telling him to “hold still for birthday noogies,” she marches right up to him, sticks out her hand to shake his, says, “Hey, dude. Larissa Duan. My bà ngoại won’t give Bitty any of her recipes, but she made you these,” and hands him a giant tupperware full of— </p><p>“Taboire, is that Falconers bành bò hấp?”</p><p>“Yep,” says Larissa.</p><p>“Bitty asked your grandma to make the thing I told him my grandma always makes for birthdays,” Gabriel clarifies, peering through the side of the tupperware at the little round white, blue, and yellow cakes.</p><p>“Yep,” says Larissa. “He could’ve used an online recipe, but he wanted to surprise you. The Falcs colours were her idea, though.”</p><p>Gabriel is not going to tear up in front of all these people. He is <em> not. </em> It’s just food, and he’s a big boy.</p><p>“That’s,” he says. “That’s very—”</p><p>Larissa gives his arm a little pat. “Listen,” she says. “Bitty and Jack are white guys, right, but they try. If they do something dumb, you can call them on it and they’ll do better the next time.”</p><p>Gabriel chuckles weakly. “It’s—”</p><p>“And if they don’t, text me and I’ll kick their asses.”</p><p>Gabriel is about to say something probably really ill-advised about whether or not he needs someone a foot shorter than him to kick Bitty’s ass when Man-Bun Guy suddenly flings one arm around his shoulders and one arm around Larissa’s and yells, “Heeeeeey new rookie!”</p><p>Larissa rolls her eyes, but affectionately, as far as Gabriel can tell. “Gabriel, this is my spouse. You can call him Shitty, unless there are kids around, in which case maybe go with Uncle Crappy. Shitty, this is—”</p><p>At this point Gabriel has an epiphany: “You’re Shitty and Lardo!” he exclaims, way too loud, because these two are … not exactly what “Jack’s best friend from Samwell” and “our old team manager” led him to expect.</p><p>“Hell yeah!” Shitty yells in his ear, and claps him on the back so hard he staggers. “Pleasure to make your acquaintance, m’dude! Welcome to the—” </p><p>“Byron Sterling Knight!” Gabriel had no idea Bitty could be so <em> loud </em>. “What did I say?”</p><p>Shitty mumbles something.</p><p>“What was that?” Gabriel has to suppress an embarrassing giggle, because Bitty’s standing there with his hands on his hips and a tea-towel over one shoulder, and Shitty, who is bigger and older and could almost certainly take him in a fight, actually looks legitimately concerned.</p><p>“You said be on my best behaviour,” Shitty repeats, loud enough for them all to hear this time. “C’mon, Bits, I was being welcoming!”</p><p>“It’s fine, Bitty,” Gabriel finds himself saying, and then, because he’s trying to be scrupulously honest at least with himself, “I mean, it was kind of a lot? But I’m fine. You don’t have to, euh … take away his pie privileges or anything.”</p><p>Bitty gives him a quick searching look, then says, “Okay then! Glad to hear it.” He turns to Shitty and Lardo. “Have y’all seen Chowder and Cait yet? Wait’ll you see how big the kids have gotten!”</p><p>They all head for the sandbox, and Gabriel goes to the kitchen and pours himself a glass of ice water from the fancy-ass fridge.</p><p>When he comes back out, Bitty is chatting to Larissa while holding someone’s baby—there are several babies at this party, and Gabriel isn’t sure whose this one is—and Jack, standing several metres away, is looking at him with the dopiest expression Gabriel has ever seen on a person’s face. </p><p>Well, okay.</p><p> </p><p>*</p><p> </p><p>Gabriel eats grilled steak and veggie skewers and salad and grilled salmon and corn on the cob, fends off numerous offers of beer (which he hates) and drinks a couple glasses of white wine (which he doesn’t hate). When the crowd noise starts to feel overwhelming, he quietly goes around collecting dirty dishes and ferrying them back to the kitchen, and when he can’t find any more to collect, he packs the rented plates and cutlery back in their crates, then fills up the sink and starts washing everything else. </p><p>He’s focused in on scrubbing something crissement dégueulasse off a baking dish he’s pretty sure doesn’t actually live here when he hears footsteps behind him.</p><p>« It’s a lot, eh? » Jack says. He steps up beside Gabriel, grabs a tea towel with lobsters printed on it, and starts drying dishes.</p><p>« Your friends are cool, » Gabriel says. « But … yeah. »  </p><p> </p><p>*</p><p> </p><p>When the dishes are done, they go back outside for birthday cake (not to be confused with the cookies, pies, and squares that are apparently “for later”). The cake, when Shireen and Bitty finally reveal it, isn’t just huge, it’s <em> epically </em> huge—and it’s also decorated with what turns out to be a baby photo of Jack, lovingly re-created in buttercream icing.</p><p>Jack was apparently a really, really funny-looking baby.</p><p>Bitty makes everyone sing “Happy Birthday.” Jack gets very red-faced and bashful-looking, but still manages to blow out 30 candles in one try; everyone whoops, and a couple of Falcs and Wellies make “I bet I know what you wished for” jokes that Gabriel really hopes the kids don’t understand.</p><p>Jack starts cutting up the cake, Bitty puts it on plates, and Gabriel, Chowder, Tater and Dex start handing the plates out. </p><p>Dex explains to Gabriel that Nursey isn’t allowed to help because he’ll drop all the plates and probably impale himself on a fork, which Chowder says (and Gabriel feels) is kind of harsh. Gabriel changes his mind about this when Nursey trips on a tree root and falls on his face on the grass. (Dex mutters something exasperated, but immediately goes over to help him up and make sure he’s not actually injured.)</p><p>“So those guys, are they, euh,” Gabriel asks Chowder, low. “... together?”</p><p>The look Chowder gives him is suddenly 0% “Jack and Bitty’s friend” and 100% “goalie with a .920 save percentage”.</p><p>“I’m not being homophobic!” Gabriel says hastily. “Just nosy.”</p><p>Chowder’s expression clears. “I’m not totally sure, anyway,” he says. “Like, they live together and they hang out together and they own a cat together and they go on vacation together? But if you <em> ask </em> them, Dex will get cranky about the patriarchy and Nursey’ll start talking about his dissertation research and by the end of the conversation you still won’t know, so.”</p><p>Gabriel sighs. </p><p>“Right?!” Chowder says, and they both laugh.</p><p>Chris Chow is … not what Gabriel expected? But not in a bad way.</p><p>Gabriel doesn’t bother asking the same question about Ransom and Holster; if Chowder can’t tell about his self-described best friends, he’s not gonna know about the others.</p><p>The cake is delicious, when he finally gets to eat some—a chocolate layer on top, a gingerbread spice layer on the bottom, and a vanilla layer in the middle, with cream cheese icing and chocolate and vanilla buttercream.  </p><p>Gabriel is very focused on eating his cake, but he still almost drops it when the gate swings open and <em> Kent Fucking Parson </em> walks into Jack and Bitty’s backyard.  </p><p>“Heeey, birthday boy,” he says, pointing at Jack like he’s just scored him a goal. His blond hair gleams gold under the fairy lights, which Gabriel would be willing to bet he planned for when he decided where to stop walking.</p><p>“Hey, Parse,” says Jack. “Didn’t think you were gonna make it.”</p><p>“You’re just in time for cake,” says Bitty, handing Parson a plate, fork, and Falcs blue serviette.</p><p>It all seems totally friendly, and Gabriel knows that Jack and Parson played together in the Q, and he’s not sure why the atmosphere seems kind of tense all of a sudden.</p><p>Or … yeah, Tater is glaring at Parson like he’s just laid a dirty hit on one of Tater’s teammates (which he totally has, just not <em> today </em>), so maybe that explains it. </p><p>Parson gives Jack a pretty standard bro-hug, and eats some cake, and after that Gabriel loses track of him until the party’s winding down and he’s full of pie and is bringing a batch of dessert plates back to the kitchen … and realizes the kitchen isn’t unoccupied anymore.</p><p>He pauses in the hallway.</p><p>“You are <em> so extra </em>, Parse, I swear,” he hears Bitty say, sounding … kind of annoyed but not really?</p><p>“Wait, wait,” says Parson. “<em> You’re </em> throwing this party, which I bet you cooked <em> all </em> the fucking food for by yourself, and you’re calling <em> me </em> extra just because I showed up a few hours late?”</p><p>Bitty sighs loudly. “It’s not any one thing you did,” he says. “It’s more just … who you are as a person.” There’s a pause. “Also, I had help with the cooking.”</p><p>“I am very offended, Bittle.” But he doesn’t <em> sound </em> offended, he sounds like he’s trying not to laugh.</p><p>“You named your <em> cat </em> after your <em> self </em> ,” says Bitty. “ <em> Extra </em>.”</p><p>“Okay, that was <em> super </em> not my fault,” Parson protests. “‘Kit Purrson’ won the fan twitter poll, what was I supposed to do, just disregard it? That would’ve been a dick move, c’mon.”</p><p>Gabriel can practically hear Bitty rolling his eyes.</p><p>“Bitty, I’m bringing in some more dishes,” he calls out, because this is only gonna get more awkward and he’s feeling guilty about eavesdropping, even though it’s not like he heard anything, like, <em> inappropriate </em>.</p><p>“Winnie!” Bitty greets him with way more enthusiasm than he expected, which may be partly because Bitty looks like he’s had more than a few glasses of wine. “Did you meet Kent? Kent, this is Gabriel, Jack’s rookie. Winnie, this is Kent.”</p><p>“’Sup,” says Kent Parson.</p><p>“Hi,” says Gabriel. He puts his stack of plates and forks down on the island countertop. “Euh, good to meet you?”</p><p>Kent Parson raises one eyebrow. “You don’t sound convinced.”</p><p>Bitty flicks <em> Kent Parson </em> with a damp tea-towel—he yelps and takes a step away—and says, “Be nice, or you’re not gonna get to take home that apple pie I made you.”</p><p>Parson’s eyes, which Gabriel could’ve sworn were grey a second ago, open wide and suddenly look blue. “<em> Yesssss </em> ,” he says, pumping his fist celly-style. “I’m getting <em> pie </em>! Suck it, Crosby.”</p><p>Which two weeks ago would’ve been confusing as fuck, but now Gabriel knows exactly what he means.</p><p> </p><p>* </p><p> </p><p>Bitty and Jack promised it would be okay for Gabriel to sneak out of the party early if he wanted to, so he does—although, is it really sneaking out early if it’s close to midnight?</p><p>He wakes up at 3:00 with a headache and a raging thirst, and discovers he forgot to put a glass of water or a Gatorade on his nightstand, like an idiot. He stumbles downstairs, trying to be quiet because the house is quiet now, to get some water from the kitchen and see if he can find some Tylenol.</p><p>He makes it to the kitchen, gets his glass of water, drinks the whole thing and fills the glass again. But on the way back to the stairs he has to pass the living room again, and now the hallway has a person in it. Or, no, it has <em> people </em>, because that’s Jack walking obliviously towards the stairs, and Bitty’s blond head is lolling on his shoulder.</p><p>“Chu trop vieux pour ça à c’t’heure, lapinou,” Jack says. “J’te ferais me porter la prochaine fois, hein?”</p><p>“I understood some of that,” Bitty mutters, sounding half-asleep.</p><p>Jack chuckles quietly and kisses the top of his head.</p><p>Gabriel waits for their bedroom door to close. Then he sneaks back up to his room, where he spends an hour not getting back to sleep because he can’t stop thinking, <em> What if I could have that, too? </em></p><p> </p><p>* </p><p> </p><p>On Monday morning, Gabriel comes out of his post-run shower (because, yes, Jack Zimmermann goes for a morning run even on his birthday, and Gabriel skipped it yesterday due to being exhausted and hungover, but skipping two days in a row is too much) to find a massive birthday breakfast on the kitchen table.</p><p>Everyone’s plate has a cupcake on it, Jack’s with a single candle, and where Bitty normally sits there’s a box of matches, and there’s a post-it note on top of Jack’s empty coffee mug that says, <em>Happy birthday, sweetpea! Here’s to our next 30</em> <b>❤️</b>.</p><p>It’s the kind of thing Papa would do for Maman, and it makes Gabriel suddenly, painfully homesick.</p><p>“Aww, Bits,” Jack says, behind him. “You didn’t have to—”</p><p>“You hush, Mr Zimmermann,” says Bitty. He dekes around Gabriel and goes up on tiptoe to give Jack a quick little kiss. “I wasn’t going to let your <em> actual thirtieth birthday </em> go by without so much as a cupcake!”</p><p>Gabriel thinks about his last birthday in Trois-Rivières, and his next birthday which he hopes will be in Providence and not down in Worcester, and how weird it is to speak English all the time and how he’s gonna have to get used to that now, and he has an idea. </p><p>“Bitty,” he says, “when you light the candle, is it okay if I sing?”</p><p>Bitty looks puzzled, but says, “Sure, honey, of course.”</p><p>He strikes a match, lights the little candle, shakes the match to put it out.</p><p>Gabriel’s not particularly good at singing, and Jack’s name doesn’t fit the tune very well, but he’s been to a lot of birthday parties over the years. He takes a deep breath, looks at the candle because looking anywhere else feels too hard right now, and sings:</p><p><em> O mon cher Jack, <br/>
</em> <em> c’est à ton tour <br/>
</em> <em> de te laisser parler d’amour!  </em> <em><br/>
</em></p><p>O mon cher Jack, <br/>
<em> c’est à ton tour <br/>
</em>de te laisser parler d’amour!</p><p>He makes himself look up.</p><p>Bitty claps, looking pleased but still puzzled.</p><p>Jack … is <em> crying </em>?</p><p>Gabriel is seized with a sudden terror that he’s fucked everything up, but before the anxiety spiral can quite get going, Jack looks at him and says, « That really reminded me of back home. Thank you. »</p><p>And then, to Gabriel’s complete astonishment, comes around to his side of the table and <em> hugs him </em>. </p><p>Eventually he remembers to blow out his birthday candle, <em> almost </em> before it starts melting the icing.</p><p> </p><p>*</p><p> </p><p><b>Dad Bob</b> 🏒</p><p>So apparently il y a un chanson d’anniversaire que tu jamais told me about?</p><p>Un chanson quebecois?</p><p>???</p><p>OH</p><p>Tu veux dire « Gens du pays »</p><p><a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fEIJrW_auCE"> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fEIJrW_auCE </a> </p><p>C’est ben cette chanson-ci?</p><p>Yes but different words?</p><p>[<strong>Dad Bob</strong> wants to FaceTime]</p><p> </p><p>*</p><p> </p><p>Gabriel is the first rookie to arrive for the first day of camp, because he arrives with Jack, who’s the first <em> player </em> to arrive.</p><p>He’s not as anxious as he expected to be—which is to say, he’s restless and twitchy, but he’s not zoning out or hiding in the equipment room trying to avoid an anxiety spiral—and while everything’s different here, everything’s also the same: stretching is stretching, strength training is strength training, shooting drills are shooting drills. </p><p>At the end of the day they scrimmage, Jack’s squad against Tater’s squad, and Gabriel doesn’t block as many shots as he should have but he blocks enough to beat the other goalie, Matty, so he’s pretty pleased with himself. Backup for a goalie as good as Dustin Snow would be a really great gig, he reminds himself. Starting for the Kestrels down in Worcester: less great, but more ice time, which means more opportunities to get better.</p><p>Look at him, thinking positive. Dr Blais would be so proud.</p><p>*</p><p> </p><p>The last day of training camp arrives, and Gabriel is still in Providence, not completely sure how he’s managed to survive when he’s so deeply exhausted that staying awake long enough to eat dinner has become a struggle.</p><p>George tells him he’s looking great out there and everyone’s looking forward to watching him in the preseason. Jack gives him a solemn congratulatory fist bump, and Bitty hugs him and produces a maple pecan pie—Gabriel’s current favourite—after dinner, with YOU DID IT! spelled out in piecrust letters on top.</p><p> </p><p>*</p><p> </p><p>Preseason starts, and in between games and practices and workouts, Gabriel and the other rookies and some guys who were in the AHL last season go to sessions that should be called “don’t be an asshole on twitter” and “you can’t just eat takeout” and “we’re about to give you an assload of money so here’s how not to blow it all on stupid shit” but are actually called “social media 101” and “healthy cooking for beginners” and “basics of personal finance.” The cooking class ends with a competition, because hockey players, which Gabriel wins mostly because he has, in fact, been in a kitchen before. </p><p>There’s something familiar that’s missing from the Falcs’ dressing room, and Gabriel doesn’t realize what it is until, after a pretty embarrassing loss to what was essentially the Habs’ AHL squad, he hears a mutter of <em> fucking Canadian cocksuckers </em> just before the sound of a shinpad hitting the floor.</p><p>“Hey,” says Jack. His voice isn’t especially loud, but it’s his Captain voice, and everyone looks up at him. “You want to say that again, Walshaw?”</p><p>Walshaw, one of the AHL guys, looks suddenly shifty. “Uh, say what again, Cap?”</p><p>Jack just … raises his eyebrows. There’s no reason it should be so fucking intimidating, but somehow it still is.</p><p>“I didn’t—” Walshaw sputters. “I wasn’t—”</p><p>“If you want to talk about Canadian guys who give blow jobs,” Jack says evenly, “you don’t have to go all the way to Montreal. I’m right here.”</p><p>A bunch of the guys make <em> ooooo </em> and <em> sick burn </em> type noises; someone says <em> that’s a fine! </em> </p><p>Gabriel tries to become invisible; this is a side of Jack he’s never experienced before, and he’s not sure whether to be impressed or weirded out or terrified.</p><p>“You’re still kind of new here, Walshy, so I’m not gonna rat you out to George this time, but on this team we don’t use anyone’s sexuality as an insult or a slur, we don’t talk or act like homophobic assholes, and if I hear that shit again, from <em> any </em> of y’all, you’re not gonna like what happens. Are we clear?”</p><p>“Yes, Cap,” Walshy says. “Sorry, Cap.”</p><p>“Good,” says Jack.</p><p>The d-man sitting to Gabriel’s left is handing a $50 bill to the d-man sitting to <em> his </em> left, which turns out to be because he won their bet on how long it would take Jack to drop his first <em> y’all </em> of the week.</p><p> </p><p>*</p><p> </p><p>Bitty keeps practising his French, and it continues to be terrible, but the category of things he can say flawlessly (mostly cooking vocabulary) now includes Gabriel’s full name. The more anglophone arena announcers Gabriel experiences, the more he appreciates it. </p><p> </p><p>*</p><p> </p><p>Preseason ends with three wins and a loss for Gabriel. Matty goes down to Worcester and Gabriel signs a contract, poses with pen in hand for Alaya from the social media team, is announced as part of the Falcs’ regular-season roster, gets a cheer from the room and an exuberant goalie-on-goalie hug from Snowy after his first regular-season win. He leaves his game puck on the coffee table the morning they leave for Toronto, and when they get home, Bitty’s had it framed for him to match the ones from UQTR.  </p><p> </p><p>*</p><p> </p><p>The Sharks come to Providence for a Saturday night game, and to Gabriel’s surprise the Falcs have put together a whole little PR video about him and Olivier, including pics of Gabriel and Chowder from Jack’s party, and of Jack and Gabriel on the ice, and of Jack and Chowder from Samwell, and of Chowder and Olivier from ... somewhere. It’s sweet, and it gets a nice reaction from the crowd.</p><p>Chowder and Olivier come over for brunch on Sunday, since their bus to Boston for Monday’s game against the Bruins isn’t leaving until the afternoon. Bitty herds Jack and Chowder into the kitchen (“You’re going to deal with all these eggs, and <em> you </em>are gonna help me with this pineapple and tell me what those sweet babies of yours have been up to”) and tells Gabriel to give Oli a tour of the house, which Gabriel suspects is just an excuse for them to have some Chowder-free bro-time, so instead of doing a whole-ass tour he just takes Olivier up to his bedroom and they hang out on the bed and play with Cachou, who of course has followed them upstairs.</p><p>« And it’s really okay, with the Sharks? » Gabriel asks, after Gabriel has interrogated him about what sounds like a long series of Jack, Bitty, and Jack-and-Bitty anecdotes from Chowder.</p><p>Olivier shrugs, playing with Cachou’s ear. « It’s a lot better, » he says. « Like, guys still say shit, but it’s not guys on my own team anymore, so. »</p><p>He’s told Gabriel before that it was better, but hearing it in person is more convincing, somehow.</p><p>He looks at Gabriel. « What about you? It’s good, for real? »</p><p>« Yeah. » Gabriel smiles. « Yeah, it’s really good. And wait till you experience a Bitty brunch. »</p><p>« Bro, » Olivier says. « That is possibly the gayest thing you have ever said. »</p><p>Gabriel, who has said <em> much </em> gayer things than that and they both know it— <em> Ugh, look at Eric Radford’s stupid face </em>comes to mind—hoots with laughter and attacks his brother with a pillow.</p><p>“Gabriel! Olivier!” Bitty calls up the stairs, a few minutes later. “Le brunch est sur la table!”</p><p>Bitty’s accent makes them both crack up again.</p><p>« Don’t laugh at him, » Gabriel says, trying to control himself. « He’s trying. »</p><p>Olivier presses his lips together and makes a zipping motion, but they’re still giggling like little kids as they clatter down the stairs.</p><p> </p><p>*</p><p> </p><p>“Oh my god,” Olivier says. He’s halfway through his third plate of scrambled eggs, waffles, bacon, and . “You get to eat like this <em> all the time </em>?”</p><p>“Yup.” Gabriel would like to say he tries not to sound smug, but that would be a total lie.</p><p>“We bake a lot of stuff for the players’ lounge, too,” Jack puts in. “Bits is really good at packing in the good calories, eh?”</p><p>Bitty snorts. “It’s been a process,” he says. “Me and Nate the nutritionist, we have an understanding now.”</p><p>That’s news to Gabriel, who was under the impression that Nate likes Bitty as a person but would be strongly in favour of a lifetime ban on Bittle-Zimmermann baked goods in the players’ lounge.</p><p>“Really?” he says, before he can stop himself. </p><p>Jack and Bitty look at each other and laugh.</p><p>It’s apparently Gabriel’s day for just blurting shit out without thinking it through, because the next thing he says is, “What if I came out to the team?”</p><p>Olivier looks gobsmacked. Jack looks thoughtful, and Bitty looks like a proud but very young dad. Chowder looks confused, because … <em> sacrament de marde, I forgot Chowder didn’t know yet. </em></p><p>“Well,” says Jack, slow and considering, “what if you did?”</p><p>“I … I don’t know.” Gabriel doesn’t know what made him say it in the first place, how is he supposed to know what would happen if he <em> did </em> it?</p><p>“Honey, you don’t have to do anything you’re not ready for,” says Bitty. </p><p>Which is understandable, probably, since Gabriel has definitely said the words <em> I don’t want to be The Gay Goalie, I just want to play hockey </em> more than once since he moved in here three months ago.</p><p>“I know,” he says. “I don’t know. I just … I want …” he waves a hand around at the table, the dining room, the everything around him. “This. A husband, a family, a house. Like, someday. And like … I’m not sure how to get there from here, you know?”</p><p>“Oh, honey.” Bitty reaches across the table to squeeze Gabriel’s hand.</p><p>“Did you actually want advice, Gabriel?” Jack asks. “Because I can give you some, if you want.”</p><p>“Yeah,” Gabriel decides. “Yeah, I do.”</p><p>“Okay.” Jack rolls his shoulders, rests his elbows on either side of his plate. “If you wanted to tell some guys on the team, they’d be supportive. I kinda did the same thing you did—I talked to the A’s first, and then a few other guys I was friendly with, and then everyone else, except the <em> very </em> first person I told was George, and euh … I’m guessing you haven’t talked to her?”</p><p>Gabriel blinks. “No,” he says. “No, definitely not.”</p><p>“I was so nervous,” Jack says, “I messed it up and just told her I was dating a teammate, and she thought I meant someone else <em> on the Falcs </em>, and she was flailing around trying to figure out what to say about that—she was so relieved when I told her it was Bitty.”</p><p>Everyone else is laughing, but Gabriel is busy trying and failing to picture Georgia Martin <em> flailing </em>. Everybody contains multitudes, he guesses.</p><p>“Anyway, that’s it, I guess,” Jack says. “For me, it was easier once more people knew, because Bits and I were already dating when I got here, and it really sucked to have everyone assume I was talking on the phone to my girlfriend and my girlfriend was baking pies for the Nook. It was like a thousand percent easier when I could just tell the truth about him, and have everyone be happy when he was voted captain, stuff like that. But … to be honest, I’m not sure I’d have ever said anything if I’d been single.”</p><p>Gabriel thinks about that, chewing it over in his mind as he mechanically chews his waffles and greek yogurt.</p><p>On the one hand, having everyone around him <em> know </em> is kind of terrifying. He never thought he’d even consider it—the number of people who know is bigger now than it’s ever been before, but it’s still not even in double digits.</p><p>On the other hand, the Falcs appealed to him for a reason outside of their Cup prospects, and this is it—Jack, and the way his team and their fanbase have supported him, loudly and unequivocally, for the past four years. Not because he was planning to come out, but because he wanted to be somewhere where he didn’t have to be afraid all the time, where he’d feel like if he ever <em> did </em> want to, his job would be safe. As safe as a backup goalie’s job ever is, anyway. </p><p>On the <em> other </em> hand … Gabriel isn’t Jack Zimmermann; he’s not famous, he’s not even 21 yet, he escaped from junior hockey so he’d have some options, he’s got lots of time and lots of scope to figure out what he wants his adult life to be. He’s in a good spot, and he can take his time, and <em> fuck </em>, that feels good to realize.</p><p>He swallows, puts down his knife and fork.</p><p>“I think … not right now,” he says. “But later.”</p><p>Jack reaches a fist across the table; Gabriel bumps it solemnly.</p><p>“S’wawesome,” Jack says. </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p><b>Translations:</b><br/>assieds-toé! = sit!</p><p>tais-toé! = be quiet!</p><p>reste ici = stay (or stay here)</p><p>Cachou = Cashew <i>[the french name for this nut is actually “acajou”; this is what we call a faux-ami or calque, a word in one language that sounds like a word in the other language but doesn’t actually mean the same thing. According to <a href="https://www.cbc.ca/news/canada/montreal/montreal-animal-dog-cat-names-1.3675167">this CBC story</a>, there were 66 dogs named Cachou licensed in Montréal between 2010 and 2015, as well as one named Cachoux, one named Cashew, and one named … Picachou 😂.] </i></p><p>wô = whoa or wow</p><p>c’t’assez maintenant, hein? = that’s enough now, eh?</p><p>encore un autre francophone chez nous = another francophone at our place</p><p>estie, crisse de câlice, tabarnak, taboire, sacrament de marde = <i>these are swear words; I’m not sure how to translate them individually but you suspect they’re mostly related to Catholic religious objects, you’re right.</i></p><p>bà ngoại = maternal grandmother <i>(this is Vietnamese, not French)</i></p><p>bành bò hấp = <a href="http://www.npfamilyrecipes.com/recipe/steamed-rice-cake-banh-bo/">these delicious food items</a></p><p>oiseau = bird</p><p>faut qu’on aille tôt le matin car y fait crissement chaud plus tard = gotta go early in the morning because it’s fucking hot later on</p><p>mais enfin y faut faire c’qui te rend heureux, hein? = in the end you gotta do what  makes you happy, eh?</p><p>juste le gars I was looking for! = Just the guy que je cherchais</p><p>tu peux-tu mettre ces, uh, tablecloths sur les tables, hon? = can you put these, euh, nappes on the tables?</p><p>Ouais, j’mettrai les nappes, pas de problème = yeah, I’ll put the tablecloths on, no problem</p><p>Tsé [tu sais] = you know</p><p>Ché [je sais] ça = I know that</p><p>C’est cool = it’s cool</p><p>les gars = guys / you guys</p><p>colocs = roommates / housemates [short for “colocataires”, lit. co-renters]</p><p>crissement dégueulasse = fucking gross </p><p>Chu trop vieux pour ça à c’t’heure, lapinou = I’m too old for this now, bunny</p><p>J’te ferais me porter la prochaine fois, hein? = I’m gonna make you carry me next time, eh?</p><p>O mon cher Jack / c’est à  ton tour / de te laisser parler d’amour! = Dear Jack, it’s your turn to let yourself talk about love <i>[It loses something in the translation, but this is literally the go-to birthday song in Quebec; the original words are “gens du pays, c’est votre tour de vous laisser parler d’amour”, and you adapt it to the birthday person. Go to the link Dad Bob sends Bitty to hear the original.]</i></p><p>il y a un chanson d’anniversaire que tu jamais [told me about] = there’s a birthday song you never [told me about] <i>note, Bitty gets the gender of "chanson" wrong; should be "une chanson"]</i></p><p>Un chanson quebecois? = a québécois song? <i>still getting the gender of "chanson" wrong]</i></p><p>Tu veux dire « <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fEIJrW_auCE">Gens du pays</a> » = you mean “Gens du pays”</p><p>C’est ben cette chanson-ci? = this song?</p><p>Le brunch est sur la table! = Brunch is on the table!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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